


Theories of Momentary Perfection

by serialkarma



Category: The OC
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serialkarma/pseuds/serialkarma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is contemplation of the universe, babble, and underage smoking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Theories of Momentary Perfection

Ryan's not so naive that he thinks things are going to be perfect from here on out. He's completely aware that even though it looks like the Garden of Eden, this place is still just as much wilderness as his mom's. Like his mom, it dresses up real nice on the outside, but the dirt doesn't stay hidden for long. Also like his mom, he can't help the fierce love he's beginning to feel for this place and these people.  
  
They're not perfect either, the Cohens. Ryan's not expecting them to be. And as he smokes a contraband cigarette on the poolhouse steps after dinner--his fifth meal in a row as an official member of the household--he hopes they're not expecting *him* to be perfect either.  
  
Ryan doesn't like to think of people or places-- _things_ \--as being perfect or imperfect. They're always imperfect and he'll always be disappointed if he thinks in those terms. Moments, though. Moments can be perfect.  
  
He figures the world isn't really three-dimensional. It's four-dimensional--that fourth dimension being time, which, as they say, stops for no man. He's read a couple books on theories of space-time (and seen more episodes of Star Trek than he's ever let on to Seth), and while the advanced mathematics went over his not-yet-in-calculus head, he came away with a solid vision of a universe that's always changing, always moving, never static. It made sense in a way that few things ever have. So people, who are caught up in the movements of time, can't ever be perfect. They change, they move, what was perfect one moment is completely wrong the next. Moments, though, are like soap bubbles: Perfect for the instant they exist, and when they pop they leave behind nothing but a perfect memory.  
  
So now Ryan doesn't look so much at people or places as moments in time. He collects perfect moments, keeping them in his heart like his mother kept her snow globes through all the places they lived between Fresno and Chino.  
  
He's been adding to his collection lately, almost against his will. He wasn't sure he'd be able to bear some of the perfect moments he's had if he'd been forced to give up the possibility of more. But the last few days he's felt like it might be safe, he might be safe, and this could be real. So he pulls out his collection and examines his most recent acquisitions.  
  
Sandy handing him his business card outside the detention center, with a smile that actually seemed genuine. Lazing around in the pool with Seth for an entire afternoon, alternately listening to him babble away and the comfortable silences that broke up the chatter. The candlelight on Marissa's hair as she walked toward him in the model home. Kirsten's matter-of-fact pronouncement that he was going to be staying. Right now--the curl of his cigarette smoke in the still air and strains of an old Van Morrison song on the radio inside. It's a song he remembers his dad loved, and he's reminded of another perfect moment--himself, six years old, sitting on the porch steps of their house in Fresno, watching his father's cigarette smoke waft upward on a still night, the same Van Morrison song playing on the radio inside.  
  
A body plops down next to him without ceremony and for a bare instant he knows his father has come to take him away, back to being six and on the old porch steps and completely content with the universe at that moment. But it's Seth, and Ryan is filled with a confusing mixture of disappointment and relief, pleasure and irritation. This is actually a fairly normal reaction for him as far as Seth goes, though, so he does what he usually does when he has no clue what to say, and just smiles at him and looks back out at the ocean. Ryan's lack of chatter never seems to bother Seth, who has enough to say about everything for the both of them--and then some--and always appears perfectly happy to pick up any conversational slack Ryan leaves.  
  
He starts in as tongue-trippingly fast as always, something about Playstation and it being his turn to kick Ryan's ass at Medal of Honor: Tom Clancy's Licensing Empire Strikes Back or whatever, but stops abruptly, perhaps realizing that there's a time for babbling, and there's a time for quiet contemplation of the nature of the universe.  
  
"Hey. Can I tr--can I bum a cigarette?"  
  
Or, there's a time for babbling, and there's a time to test the bounds of parental tolerance.  
  
He doesn't turn to face Seth, just cuts a sideways glance at him. "You want to try a cigarette?"  
  
"Well, just one. I mean, I know it's a nasty, gross habit that's a gateway drug to all sorts of terrible, evil things like pot or heroin--and _definitely_  halitosis--and the 'cool' factor is all a scam perpetrated by Big Evil Tobacco companies on the innocent, naive teenage demographic, of which I am definitely..."  
  
Sometimes Ryan wants to stick _something_  in his mouth just to shut him up for a moment.  
  
"...but I figure, before I commit myself to a life of lily-white, guilt-free pleasant breath, I ought to get at least an idea of the tragic, untimely death I'll be narrowly escaping."  
  
Seth stops and blinks at Ryan; it appears he's actually run out of things to say on this topic.  
  
In response, Ryan hands him his half-smoked Marlboro and says, "Be my guest. Take a puff."  
  
Seth looks dubiously at the small twist of paper. "Dude, don't I at least get my own?"  
  
"Try this first and see what you think." Ryan's fairly sure Seth's not going to want more than one or two puffs anyway.  
  
Seth puts the filter end to his lips and pulls it away immediately. "It's wet! Are you supposed to lick it or something?"  
  
Ryan can't help grinning. "No, I was just being lazy. I didn't know I was going to be sharing tonight."  
  
Seth gives Ryan the same dubious look he just gave the cigarette and puts the filter in his mouth again. Then he sits there, holding it in one hand, watching Ryan out of the corner of his eye. Ryan _really_ hopes Kirsten doesn't pick this moment to check up on them.  
  
"Now, suck on it, like you're sucking on a milkshake or something."  
  
Seth's ears turn red for some reason, but he follows the instructions, and his cheeks actually hollow out as he earnestly sucks away. Then he draws a breath to say something, actually inhales for the first time, and promptly chokes and coughs so hard he falls over sideways on the step. Ryan rescues the cigarette from inadvertent smooshing and takes a quick puff, blowing a series of smoke rings, one after the other. Showing off.  
  
Seth is still coughing some, and Ryan is relieved because it means that a) he probably won't be deciding that smoking is the new cool thing anytime soon, so Kirsten won't be after Ryan's head on a platter and b) he probably didn't notice how flushed Ryan's own face had become as he watched Seth suck on his hand-me-down cigarette.  
  
Seth gives one last wheezing hack and picks himself up off the ground. "Okay. Mission accomplished. I will embrace that lily-white, goody-two-shoes, smoke-free existence with open arms. That is _foul_. What do you get out of it?"  
  
Ryan tries to imagine explaining summer nights and tendrils of smoke and the smell of tobacco clinging to over-sized shirts, but can't figure out how to convey the feeling of a perfect moment. So he just smiles, shrugs, and stamps out the butt. "I don't know. I'm probably going to quit anyway."  
  
Seth stands up and offers him a hand. "Well, in any case, like I was saying before, it's my turn to make you weep like a little girl at..."  
  
And he's off again, not seeming to notice that Ryan doesn't let go of his hand right away after he helps him up. In fact, their hands are still linked as they reach the sliding glass door to the den, and as Seth gives him a rabbit-quick glance from under his lashes and their shoulders collide as they step inside, Ryan thinks maybe he doesn't need to explain the perfect moment concept after all. Because maybe Seth already knows it.


End file.
